


Brush away my longing

by Ravensmores



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: AU where everything is the same but Yuuri has long hair, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Fluff, Hair Braiding, Hair Brushing, Long-Haired Katsuki Yuuri, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:08:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23068996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravensmores/pseuds/Ravensmores
Summary: Victor cocks his head at the action, gentle smile not faltering. "Having hair trouble?"Yuuri puts the comb down while huffing out a defeated laugh. "Is it that obvious?"Victor shakes his head gently before standing and walking over to him. "Don't worry, I've been there." He gestures for Yuuri to turn back towards the mirror, a finger at his lips as he surveys the state of his hair. "It's one of the reasons I'm glad I cut it.""With how much of a mess this is, I think I might have to as well."Victor is silent for a few seconds before reaching down to pick the comb up himself. He meets Yuuri's gaze in the mirror,  eyes warm yet determined as one hand drops to ever so gently stroke through the ends of his hair, hanging long and knotted down his back. "May I?"Aka The long-haired Yuuri fic no one asked for.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 11
Kudos: 219





	Brush away my longing

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back baby! 
> 
> I took a bit of a break from writing after Christmas but my head's back on straight and I'm easing myself back in with something short and fluffy. THE WORLD NEEDS MORE LONG-HAIRED YUURI!
> 
> This is also entirely [mandolinearts](https://twitter.com/mandolinearts) fault.

_“Damnit.”_

Yuuri’s frustration shines clear in his reflection as he tries to rake his fingers through the current mess of his hair now tangled in an inky swath around his shoulders. He's already been sitting in front of his small vanity for twenty minutes now trying to salvage the twisted strands into some kind of order, but it's been a fruitless endeavour.

Eventually gives up trying to sort this mess by hand, picking up the comb from the table and starting to work from the bottom. He runs the smooth teeth through the ends again and again the same way he's been running the events from the past twelve hours through his mind again and again. Twelve hours ago he was terrified his entire future was about to turn on chilled heels and head back to Russia, and barely an hour after that had he wrapped an arm so securely around his waist, telling him he was staying while Yuri left their little competition without a word.

It was a lot to process. He hardly blames himself that his mind was so preoccupied with the confusing happy mess that was his life right now that he forget to detangle properly after getting out of the shower.

But that didn't help with the long strands of black birds nest currently dried in a variety of strange angles around his face and front.

_Maybe he should just tie it up?_

Reaching for an old hair tie, the comb in his hand suddenly clatters to the desk at the sound of the sharp knock coming through his bedroom door.

"Yes?"

"It's me. Can I come in?"

He recognises the rich timbre of Victor's voice instantly and pales a little.

"Uh- just a sec." He quickly turns back to himself in the mirror, swallowing his mumbled curses about how much of a mess he looked right now. His pyjama shirt has holes, there's a nick on his chin where he'd cut himself shaving before he showered and that wasn't even touching on the hair situation. 

_Why now?_

Flicking his eyes back to the door he briefly considers telling Victor to leave and that he was busy or tired but quickly decides against it. After everything that went down today, whatever he has to say is probably important. He's his coach officially now, he's probably going to see him in worse states than this.

He grimaces a little at the thought as he walks over to his door and opens it.

Victor is standing casually in the hallway, Makkachin sitting by his side. Yuuri is a little surprised that he's still mostly dressed considering the late hour, one hand resting on Makkachin's head, the other curled around a cup of something softly steaming. Tea probably.

"Hi," Yuuri greets quietly as he stands aside to let them in. He's happy that his voice doesn't shake for once, the proximity of the past couple of weeks helping quell the nerves of having someone like Victor walking around his hometown with such carefree abandon.

"Hey," he replies warmly, striding inside and sitting down on the edge of Yuuri's bed. Makkachin quietly pads after him before jumping up to join him, her head resting comfortably in the centre of Yuuri's pillow.

Yuuri wonders if Victor wants him to join them on his bed before thinking better of it and sitting back down at his dressing table, hoping the low light was helping to hide the mess of his current appearance.

Victor carefully leans back a little before reaching over to gently scratch across Makkachin's head, his tone jovial and soft. "I saw the light in your room as I was passing. I thought I'd stop by."

Yuuri's heart stutters a little at how sweetly casual he sounds. The image of his idol so comfortably sipping tea and petting his dog on top of his childhood bed is something he knows a few weeks ago he never would have even entertained could happen, and yet right now it somehow seemed to fit. The fact that Victor had uprooted himself and somehow slotted so effortlessly into Yuuri's life was still a marvel to everyone, yet even after these few weeks he somehow can't imagine cutting across the ice or eating breakfast without Victor sitting across and watching with soft brilliant eyes.

He feels himself smile at the two of them across from him, all the mess of thoughts from earlier starting to evaporate like the onsen's steam at the sweet image. "I feel like you should be telling me to go to bed. We both have to be up early."

"Very true," Victor chuckles lowly before slowly leaning forward, an eyebrow raised. "Well then. Why aren't you asleep yet?"

"I was going to go to bed soon. I just had a few things to sort out." He turns a little to pick up his comb and start absentmindedly tugging it through the ends of his hair again. He grunts quietly when it starts to snag.

Victor cocks his head at the action, gentle smile not faltering. "Having hair trouble?"

Yuuri puts the comb down while huffing out a defeated laugh. "Is it that obvious?"

Victor shakes his head gently before standing and walking over to him. "Don't worry, I've been there." He gestures for Yuuri to turn back towards the mirror, a finger at his lips as he surveys the state of his hair. "It's one of the reasons I'm glad I cut it."

"With how much of a mess this is, I think I might have to as well."

Victor is silent for a few seconds before reaching down to pick the comb up himself. He meets Yuuri's gaze in the mirror, eyes warm yet determined as one hand drops to ever so gently stroke through the ends of his hair, hanging long and knotted down his back. "May I?"

His intentions are clear. And Yuuri's heart skips a beat at what he's suggesting.

Only three people have brushed his hair besides himself: His mother, his sister and Yuuko. Even during shoots and interviews, he’d always insisted on fixing his hair himself, something about letting strangers touching it always feeling just the edge of uncomfortable.

But Victor isn’t a stranger. Victor is… well Victor. Someone who was happy enough to introduce himself glistening and naked when he’d first arrived, who every day was becoming less the polished idol he’d spent years looking up to and more a person he could actually feel with his own two hands, and someone who Yuuri _definitely_ hadn’t fantasised about in this exact scenario ever since he’s decided to let his hair grow out.

He exhales slowly and drops his gaze to focus on himself in the mirror, ignoring the slightly pinkened flush now dappled across the bridge of his nose.

“Sure.”

Yuuri tries to relax as he feels Victor gently brush his fingers through the length of his hair, despite the sensation instantly registering like a livewire in his brain. He leans back a little as he feels Victor gather the full weight of it between his hands, lightly pulling and twisting before letting it fall back, lightly brushing down the length of his spine.

Looking back up, his breath catches a little in his throat at the sight of Victor’s thoughtful expression as he lets a few waywards strands slip between his fingers, the dark lengths a stark contrast against the rich gold cast on his skin from the lamp shining across the room. He lifts the comb to brush through a few smaller pieces before making his way across, eyes not lifting from the delicate work of his fingers as he goes. 

It’s mesmerising to watch.

Victor is meticulous as he works. He carefully drags his fingers through each of the tangled strands before lightly brushing through the knots with the comb in his other hand. He never pulls too hard, just takes his time lightly working through until the tangles gradually smooth out, his fingers making the final brush through before moving onto the next section.

It takes all Yuuri’s strength not to shudder as his forefinger lightly brushes down the nape of his neck as he starts on the underside, the warmed press igniting a heat like fireflies buzzing under his skin. It doesn’t help when he does it again, his small smile not faltering as he gently scratches down with the bluntness of his nail. He can’t deny just how _good_ that felt.

Or how inappropriate the images that flashed before his briefly closed eyes were.

Sure they’d touched, hell they’d shared more baths than he can count over the past few weeks, but something about this was different. It wasn’t Victor pulling him up after a failed jump or both of them trying to melt away the aches of a long training session. Here between the four softly lit walls of his bedroom, it was somehow softer. More intimate.

“You have such lovely hair Yuuri,” Victor murmurs after a few minutes, his voice easier than warm honey falling from a spoon as he continues to brush.

Yuuri audibly swallows at the compliment. “Thank you.”

“It reminds me of mine a few years ago,” he continues as he pushes the comb through, slowly dragging it right down to the ends of his hair now looped in his grasp. “Though I don’t know if I grew it quite this long.”

Yuuri bites his tongue before he immediately answers, more than sure that Victor would find it a little strange that he knows exactly how long it was before he cut it off and then donated it.

18 inches.

“Do you ever miss it?” He asks instead, trying to keep his voice steady as Victor’s fingers lightly press into the crown of his head, gently tilting Yuuri’s face so he can comb more easily.

“Hmmmm sometimes I guess. I miss being able to style it.” There’s a warm shimmer in his eyes as he speaks, his smile somehow faraway as he starts sectioning out Yuuri’s now smoothed hair. “Curling it, braiding it, letting others play with it.” 

“Why did you cut it?”

He briefly feels Victor’s hands still in his hair, the softest warmth of an exhale ghosting across the back of his neck. “It was time for a change,” he murmurs after a few seconds, quickly setting back to work and parting the strands in his hands into three pieces. ”It was getting pretty heavy.”

Yuuri briefly catches the faraway coolness glazed into Victor’s eyes as he speaks, more than a little sure that he wasn’t telling the whole truth. He quickly sets his eyes forward, deciding not to press the question any further.

He had always wondered why he’d made such a drastic change. 

Even from behind the grainy flicker of an old television screen those years ago, the way Victor moved across the ice had an almost ethereal quality to it. Every move river soft and brilliant, the long ponytail flying behind him only emphasising the air of ice royalty he was exuding, like starlight wrapped up in a bow

It had been the first time Yuuri had seen him skate. And the first time he’d looked his barber in the eye and told him that he wanted to grow it out with cool determined words.

The news had spread with the power of a forest fire across skating forums when the first pictures of Victor’s new cut was posted, people speculating wildly about why he’d done it.

_He’s donating it to charity for cancer patients._

_He wants to look more masculine to match the tone of his programmes next season._

_Didn’t you hear? He just ended his last relationship, clearly this means he’s ready to change._

Whatever the reason was, it had never mattered to Yuuri. Sure he’d been curious as to why he seemed to change his answer every time he was asked, but a larger part of him was just jealous at how _perfectly_ the new cut suited him. He’d morphed from beautiful to stunning, the sharp cut of his features much more pronounced, the sweet lines of his face no longer hidden behind his long tresses. 

With a few slices of a razor and a new routine breaking records the following season, he’d pretty much confirmed what Yuuri already knew. It was never his style that made him stand out. It was just him.

“You know, I don’t know if I’d ever forgive you if you cut off any of this,” Victor comments after a while, the gentle tug of his fingers registering warm and clear as he starts pulling the length of his hair into a loose braid.

Yuuri cocks his head a little at the words.

“What if I feel like a change too?” His words are a tease, perfectly aware that he’s put in far too much effort growing it at this point to even think about cutting it. It’s the main reason he didn’t cut it even after Victor did, the mess curling around his shoulders just starting to resemble an actual hair style.

_He still remembers the awkward mullet of the first few months very vividly._

Victor raises an eyebrow, but his smile doesn’t falter as his hands quickly make their way to the ends of his hair. “Then I can’t stop you. But there are so few people I know who’d let me do this.” He punctuates his words by gently lifting the braid in his hand to show Yuuri before resting it neatly across his left shoulder. “It’s nice.”

Yuuri feels himself flush a little at the comment, the weight of the hair at his side nothing compared to the weight of the feeling starting to grow hot and solidly in his chest. He keeps his eyes forward as Victor walks around him, fingers still gently gripping the ends of the plait.

“ _Perfect_ ,” he whispers as he surveys his handiwork with deep appreciative eyes. “Now we just need-” he quickly flicks his eyes across Yuuri’s table before dropping his gaze to his own wrist smiling. With his free hand, he gently pulls something from under the edge of his shirt and starts to fasten it around the end of the braid. It takes Yuuri a second to realise that it’s the short, navy ribbon he’s seen tied around Victor’s own arm a few times, now tied in a sweet symmetrical bow to keep his hair from unravelling. “It’s been seven years but I still keep this on my wrist out of habit,” he says as he follows Yuuri’s gaze.

He doesn’t drop Yuuri’s hair immediately, fingers still lightly gripping the braid. Yuuri watches as he slowly turns it over in his hand, thumb softly curling the ends of his hair around his thumb with the gentlest amusement on his face.

Yuuri feels his mouth go dry. If it was anyone else he would have pulled it away, the intimacy just too much... but with Victor- he almost doesn’t want him to let go. He can almost feel the weight of Victor’s gaze, the tenderness in his eyes something Yuuri definitely isn’t used to. He doesn’t say anything, but can feel the heat rising in his cheeks, something warm and unfamiliar spreading in his stomach. Each second stretches on longer and longer as they stay in the sweet quiet of Yuuri’s room content in this little bubble where he can almost entertain the fact that Victor might be feeling the same way he is.

It’s only after Victor starts lightly petting the bow of the ribbon with his thumb that Yuuri finally finds his voice again. 

“Thank you for the tie.”

“I think you’ll get more use out of it now,” he replies softly, his fingers leaving the ribbon to slowly travel up the length of the braid- body drawing forward as if he was pulling himself forward with the silky weight of Yuuri’s hair.

Yuuri wants to respond, but all his words feel like sand stuck in his throat, the gentle yet piercing intensity of Victor’s eyes impossible to look away from. He continues to inch forward until his fingers reach the top of the braid, the warmth of Victor’s hand and his breath registering firmly against his already overheating skin. 

He can’t deny how good it feels.

Exhaling slowly, he holds Victor’s eyes and starts to rise from the chair. 

_Maybe… just maybe be might want to-_

As if on cue, Makkachin appears between them, nosing softly at Victor’s thigh.

The heat of the moment instantly breaks, Victor blinking a few times in rapid succession.

“Aha I think someone is sad she’s not the centre of attention for once,” Victor says hastily as he finally drops Yuuri’s hair. 

Yuuri feels heat in the room cool a little as Victor takes a few steps back, scratching the large poodle behind her ears.

“Or maybe she just wants her hair brushed too,” Yuuri says as he quickly sits back down, acutely aware of how loud and hot his heart is drumming in his ears.

“Hmm maybe,” Victor murmurs, not looking up from where he’s regarding Makkachin. Yuuri can swear his cheeks are pinched a little pinker in the dim light as he lightly pushes her back towards the door. 

He looks back to Yuuri after a few seconds, his smile from earlier suddenly back in place. “Well, we have an early start tomorrow, you should get some rest.”

Yuuri feels a small twinge of disappointment at how quickly everything before had just disappeared, but quickly shakes the thought away.

He really doesn’t want to dwell on _what if’s_ any more. Especially when it comes to Victor.

It’s just too painful.

He does his best to match Victor’s smile turning back around to the mirror and avoiding his own gaze. “Right. Good idea.”

He sees the silvery outline Victor move forward slightly in the corner of the reflection before stopping and quickly turning back through the door.

“I’ll see you bright and early then.”

Yuuri nods curtly. 

The phantom press of Victor’s fingers are still soft and warm against his scalp- it’s an oddly relaxing sensation.

Taking another breath, he pushes forward with the last shreds of courage built over the last few minutes.

“Victor-” Yuuri turns around again, one hand nervously twisting the end of his own braid. “If- if you ever wanted to style it again. Please feel free.”

Victor blinks a little at the statement as he stands in the doorway before a wider grin breaks across his expression. He pulls up his other sleeve, revealing another dark ribbon tied messily around his other arm.

“I’d love to.”

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on [Tumblr](https://ravensmores.tumblr.com/) \- @ravensmores  
> Or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RavensmoresFics) \- @ravensmoresfics


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